


Because Magic?

by LettreDeMarque



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Gen, Multi, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2019-10-18 18:39:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17586212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LettreDeMarque/pseuds/LettreDeMarque
Summary: Random Arcana one-shots (and the random modern au 3-shot that would not. stop. writing itself!!!) to get me back into writing after taking a two-year break and to keep me sane as I wait for Muriel's storyline to update. Tags will be updated as we move along. I'll post the rating for each chapter, but most of them are going to be Gen or Teen with like maaaaybe one or two mature thrown in for variety.





	1. Unnecessary Badass Aunt Back Story

~~The random prologue (or maybe prequel?) that nobody asked for, but I wanna know more about the the mysterious "aunt" who owned the magic shop before and was only mentioned once dammit!~~ No warnings, no spoilers, gen rating for this first chapter.

You're eight and half years old, practically nine actually, so you fight the urge to hide behind your mother's legs. You stare up at the strange, older woman and frown slightly. Your mother's tongue rolls off the impossibly long name with all the ease of a troop of acrobats while yours twists itself into an ineligible garbling sound when you try to mimic her. 

"You can just call me 'Aunt Banu'," the older woman tells you in a gentle voice. You only accept this because she calls your mother "Nay-Nay" with easy affection and reserves your mother's full name for stern tones of disagreement.

Your mother explains that Aunt Banu lives far, far away in a city called Vesuvia. It sounds like something out of a fairy tale, a beautiful city built on sea cliffs. Since it takes nearly two whole months to travel there, her last visit was when you were still a baby and you wouldn't have remembered her. 

"Fortune-tellers everywhere," Aunt Banu huffs in irritation as if fortune-tellers were some kind of miscreant. "But my herbals and teas sell well. The forest nearby provides a rich bounty."

"You're enjoying your retirement then?" Mother asks.

"Much, but it won't be long before I need someone to help me around the shop," Aunt Banu explains. It makes sense since she's nearly ten years older than your mother. Your mother is the most beautiful woman you know, especially when she puts colors and powders on her face. In contrast Aunt Banu has a clever look about her and is shorter and plumper. Aunt Banu never bothers with ornaments and she wears every wrinkle like a badge of honor.  _Being old makes it socially acceptable to be lonely and odd again,_ she would later tell you on one of your bad days when puberty was being especially unkind. The contrast between them makes it hard to believe that Aunt Banu and your mother are full blooded sisters, but their eccentricities and oddities tended to share a similar flavor. 

Aunt Banu stays for only two weeks. She watches you and your siblings while your parents are busy. She doesn't know any fun games, but she knows a little about anything and takes your little brother's endless questions in great strides. "Why is the grass green? Why is the sky blue? Why do dogs have four legs?" Normally you put your fingers in your ears so you don't have to hear him, but for each question Aunt Banu makes and effort to show that she's listening and she answers each and every question. She readily admits when she doesn't know the answer, too.

"Are you a magician?" Your older sister asks in a hushed tone. Magic is frowned upon in your city so your mother forbids you to speak of it in public.

"The rare true-dream like your grandfather used to get," Aunt Banu says with a shrug. "Your father would be the one to ask. His family is rumored to be gifted."

"Why don't you have any children?" You ask. It seems odd to you that your father's brothers and sisters all had children, older cousins who ignored you during holiday dinners, but Aunt Banu lives alone in her little shop. "Did your husband die?" 

Your older sister gasps in horror. You shrink in on yourself in shame for having asked such a thoughtless question. 

But Aunt Banu shakes her head. "It's...complicated," She admits. "You know how your mother and father met they realized that they loved each other the most? More than anyone in the world?"

The three of you nod with enthusiasm. 

"Well, I don't have one person. I have _two_." Aunt Banu whispers, "Sometimes people have more than one soul-mate."

"Really?!" You ask excitedly. Two soul-mates sounds even better than one.

Your older sister shakes her head, "That's not what the old angry men say in town. It's supposed to be one boy and one girl who like each other."

"Not for magicians," Aunt Banu explains. "That's why the old angry men don't like magicians. They think the magic corrupts them and makes them dangerous."

"But isn't magic dangerous?" your little brother asks with a tremor in his voice.

" _Everything_ is dangerous if you don't use it correctly. Fire, water, even your own hands and feet could hurt someone." Aunt Banu points out, "Why even _words_  can be harmful. Those old men hurt people with their words, don't they? That means words are dangerous and since words are dangerous we shouldn't use them."

"Buthow can we talk without words?"

"Ah, so you're saying that we shouldn't all stop using words because some people use them badly?" Aunt Banu hides her smirk under her hand. 

Your older sister narrows her eyes. "That's metaphor for magic isn't it? Magic isn't bad just because some people use it badly."

"Exactly." Aunt Banu nods with pride. "Just exactly that."

You all are sad when your Aunt leaves, but she promises to visit again soon. "Soon" ends up being four years later. This time your aunt arrives during a moonless night with barely a sound as mother lets her in the back door. You hide with your ear pressed to the door trying to listen to the hush frantic tones of your parents. There's a tension in the house that you don't like. It scares you like a scratching sound at night that you can't identify and it keeps you awake. 

"Take the oldest and youngest with you," Aunt Banu says calmly. "My contacts can see you safely there and I have money for bribes with me. It's alright Nay-nay, I've done this before."

"But this is our home!" Father hisses. "We've lived here for fifteen years!"

"Yes, but now you're harboring a 'witch' in your home." Aunt Banu sighs.

"They're just a child!"

"Your village leaders do not care." Aunt Banu says flatly. "Consorting with spirits is the devil's work that is sure to bring ruin on everyone. The way they see it the life of one child is not worth the life of every other child in the village. They'll be safe with me. I can teach them, train them to use magic to help others."

A soft sob breaks through your father's composure. "I should be the one to teach them."

"And leave your wife to care for your remaining children alone? Never see your family again?" Aunt Banu points out. "When was the last time you used magic except to heal scraped knees?"

The next morning you hug your parents and siblings goodbye. Aunt Banu warns you to pack only what you can carry. Her tone is gentle and understanding. She tells you all about her little shop and explains that it'll be yours someday. She'll teach you everything she knows and what she doesn't know her magician clients can teach you. You'll have the best shop in the world someday. 

She snuggles you close as you sit in the hull of the ship together. The waves don't agree with you and you can barely keep any food down. Aunt Banu rubs your back and tells you every story she knows. When her well of fairy stories runs dry she whispers solemnly, "My wife was a magician. My other soul-mate and I _both_ loved her very much. We were a family, we were in love like your parents, but there are a lot of angry old men in this world. We had to leave our city and find a new one, but we couldn't leave together. I left first and I arrived at the place we were supposed to meet and I waited. I waited and I waited, but my soul-mates never arrived."

You feel your heart squeeze in sympathy. You're sad thinking that you could have had another aunt, a bigger family, more people to love, more people to lose.

"Where were you supposed to meet them?" you ask.

Aunt Banu smiles sadly and replies, "Vesuvia." She rubs your back again in gentle circles. "We'll be there soon."


	2. Afternoon Market Fluff Piece

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluff! This was supposed to be Arsa focused, but then Muriel just came out of no where and stole the plot (like my heart!)

~~Not actually intended to be a follow up of the previous chapter, just some before cannon fluff that I needed like a week ago and if the Devs want to update Muriel's story line sometime this year, that would be great, but I am actually kinda looking forward to Portia's story...~~ Anywho! One or two referenced spoilers, I'm basically just wild mass guessing on character ages and timelines, no content warnings, and a gen rating for this chapter, enjoy!

..

One thing you don't like about your aunt is her tendency to chase your new friend away with a broom. She dotes on you and spoils you with all the love and overprotective affection she would have given her own child had she had any. Each day your aunt manages to cleverly worm her way deeper into your heart with every kind, sagely word of advice and odd eccentricity. You can't bear the thought of parting with her as season by season her hands become even more gnarled. Two of her fingers refused to bend properly anymore making it difficult for her to grind up her specialized herbs and teas for the shop. It's practically your sworn duty to run errands around town, to reach for heavy things on a high shelf, and sneakily send pulses of healing energy into her when she wasn't looking just to ease her aches and pains. Your aunt would scold you terribly if she knew you were "wasting your energy on her". Getting old is perfectly natural, as she likes to remind you daily, and there's no point in trying to turn back time. Somehow, though, whenever the youth with the fluffy white hair comes to visit, your aunt almost miraculously found a spark of youthful energy and would shoo him out the door, (but not until _after_ he dumps his latest forest-bounty on the counter). 

"He's a little too fond of you," your aunt complains as she sorts through the freshly picked herbs, barks, and mushrooms. She clicks her tongue disapprovingly. "Won't end well, with that one. Won't end well at all."

"That's not what the fortune-tellers say," you counter rather cheekily. It's more of a taunt than usual because of your aunt's distaste for fortune tellers. "The way they tell it our love will blossom like the sun in the sky."

Your aunt gives you the stink-eye. "They don't get paid to tell the harsher truths," she says with a sigh. "You'll break that poor child's heart."

That makes you pause. She sounds serious. This is more than simple over protectiveness.

"What do you mean?" You ask quietly trying not to picture it. 

"Your little friend is the real deal, not just a charlatan with barely a spark of talent to get by on. That kind of power always comes with a price and a steep on at that."

Your aunt winces in pain. She needs to get off her feet for a while, but it will take some coxing on your part and the tempting aroma of her favorite tea to convince her to hobble up the stairs to the living space above the shop. If you can convince her to take a nap it will give you a chance to sneak away to play. There are heaps of adult responsibilities on your shoulders now, but there's still a streak of childishness that cries for attention every now and again. Perhaps you could use a break too.

You love it when a plan comes together. The strolling along the busy market to pick up supplies is the perfect excuse to get away from the shop for a little while. In a few hours the heat of the summer day will be at its peak and no one will be bustling about then. Your aunt would screech in horror to hear of you temping heat stroke and insist that you find a cool place to wait until it's reasonable to be walking about again. She won't question your long, unplanned absence then. 

The only problem now it trying to find your fluffy-haired friend. You would think that such a distinct shade of hair color would be easy to spot, but after a while your search proves fruitless and eventually you find yourself nearly collapsing with exhaustion next to a row of stairs. Perhaps there is a slight flaw in your plan after all. 

You sigh in disappointment as the shadow next to you moves unexpectedly and makes you jump nearly a foot in the air. 

"Sorry." a deep voice mutters quietly. 

Quiet indeed, the shadow-person had been so silent and still you hadn't even realized anyone was hiding in the shade with you. You glance up, and up, and up at the tall figure. Even slouching they certainly have a height advantage over you. You blink in surprise and study the stranger closely. He's not much older than you, you think. There's patches of hair on his face, but no enough to shave just yet. He has a stray look about him that, unlike Asra, would cause your aunt to wrap up this boy with a warm blanket and a hot meal. She always did prefer the quiet, surly types. 

"Are you alright?" you ask. His clothes were practically in shreds at this point, not that it mattered in the hot weather. 

"....'m fine."

For some reason you're not convinced and stare at him like your aunt does when you tell a fib. You're pleased to note that after a little while it works. 

The boy sighs and looks at the wall rather than you. "...chickens..."

"Chickens?" you prompt. 

"I came into town to buy chickens, but I don't know which ones to buy," he admits. 

You think for a moment. "Are you going to eat them?"

He shakes his head. "No...for eggs."

"Oh."

"....but I'm not very good at...bartering." He emphasizes the last word like it's a curse. Makes sense, you think. He strikes you as a person of few words. Actually, you're surprised he's still talking to you, but neither of you are going anywhere until the sea breeze kicks in and makes the city stop feeling like a baker's oven. 

You continue waiting until he speaks again this time in embarrassment. "I have to wait for my friend so he can do it for me."

You nod at that and pat his arm sympathetically. "It's tough having to rely on other people to do things for you that you should be able to do yourself, but I'm sure your friend is more than happy to help you. It feels good to be needed by someone."

"...I still don't like it," he replies still looking upset.

"Oh, then you should do what my aunt does." You perk up. "Whenever she's angry or upset she makes a cup of tea."

"...and that works?" he asks doubtfully. 

"Well, if it doesn't you at least have a cup of tea, she says." You reach into your pocket and pull out a tiny silk bag and hand it to him. "Here, see if this helps."

He waits a moment to stare at you and then the small bag before taking it. "Do you always carry around tea with you?"

You shrug. "I'm a future small business owner. I have to always be on the hustle." A thought strikes you. "...Maybe I could help you? I don't know anything about chickens, but I can talk to people and I know almost everyone in the market who visits my shop...so..."

The older boy looks like he's weighing his options. You study him for a moment still crafting your bartering strategy. It should work quite well actually, quite well indeed.

"You won't have to say a word," you promise and that is what says him. He stands up and nods as if he he suspects you to lead the way. Well, it's not like you need an engraved invitation, adventure awaits! It'll give you a fun story to tell Asra later. 

It's still early enough that the market hasn't recovered from the afternoon lull. Your new companion appears to be relieved by this and not one for crowds. Eventually you find the stalls that are selling chickens. 

"Are you going to buy chicks?" You ask while admiring the fluffy baby chickens peeping and running around in circles.

"No, I need some hens to start with." He says eyes drifting over the the various birds on display in high hanging cages. 

You pull him aside so the shop keepers can't see you. "Which ones do you want?"

He points to a few and hands over his money pouch. It's not much, but you have faith in your plan.

"Stand one pace behind me and just stare at my shoulder." You tell him. "You won't have to say anything."

Once he gives a nod you march up to the first shop keeper with all the confident flair you can muster. He recognizes you immediately and begins asking about the health of your aunt and politely inquires about your own shop. The back and forth is brief before you get the the heart of the matter. 

"I'm actually looking for a couple of chickens for my friend here," you tell the shop keeper while pointing over your shoulder. You can feel the older boy looming over your shoulder and snicker internally as the shop keeper looks up and pales slightly at the size of your new friend. You maintain a friendly disposition through out the negotiation, but the shop keeper keeps looking over your shoulder nervously. In the end you were able to snag a discount on two healthy looking hens. Rinse, lather, repeat at two more locations and you're able to secure five chickens for your new friend. He's gratitude is hidden under about twelve layers of gruffness, but you feel accomplished all the same. 

"Now all you need is for your friend to help carry them," you tell him cheerfully. After a moment you ask, "Where is your friend anyway?"

"He's coming." Your companion points to the drowsy mob of market goers that are slowly rising out of the afternoon lull, but standing starkly against them all is a head of fluffy white hair darting back and forth excitedly.

"Asra!" you call out.

You see the fluffy hair pause for a moment before the young magician turns and makes a bee-line towards you. Your tall companion has enough sense to move out of the way before you're tackled in an almost painfully tight hug. Asra's hair tickles your nose as the younger magician buries his head in your chest. He has at least one more growth spurt in him that'll probably even out your heights, if not make him taller than you. For now he beams up at out with all the warmth of the sun. 

"You're here! You're here !" Asra says excitedly before looking up at your companion. "And Muriel's here too! Are you friends now?"

You look up at the older boy. "You know Asra?"

Muriel nods. 

"Oh," you say before looking back at Asra. "Then, yes, we're definitely friends."

Asra looks absolutely overjoyed and Muriel tries to hide his blush under his hood. 

" _Best_ friends," you correct yourself. "We should all definitely be best friends. We could make a secret pact and everything."

Asra grabs on to your hand and nods in agreement. He tilts his head and asks, "Do you think your aunt has any books about it?"

"Probably," you agree. "But...uh..." 

You look at the chickens nervously. "She's definitely not going to let us bring any chickens into the shop..."


	3. A Short Muriel Character Study

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Muriel won't admit why he's wary of Asra's new "apprentice"

~~This theory probably is already debunked before I even finish so Imma gonna play the "alternate universe" card for this one.~~ _All_ the spoilers. Major Character Death (referenced), teen rating for chapter

I repeat: All the spoilers. And in Muriel's POV! whoo-hoo!

...

Lucio's dead and you're finally free. You don't need to maim or kill any more at the Count's orders anymore. The stench of blood, the sound of human bones breaking, and men screaming as they die will likely haunt you all of your remaining days, but from now you'll wake from your nightmares in the hovel you built with Asra in your own hands instead of the dark dungeons below the Colosseum. You don't have to listen to the roar of the crowds as they scream out your "name". Nobody remembers you as the bloody butcher, the "Surge of the South", Lucio's executioner. You wish that you could forget everything you'd done during those long, seemingly endless days bound in service to the Count, but that would have required a higher price, but this way, at least, you are free.

But Asra, your oldest and closest friend, your _only_ friend once again, is not free.

Asra doesn't have his freedom because it was never the Count who held a dark power over him, not really. Asra's own guilt consumes him still, much like the doctor's guilt had done. You remember the red-headed man's feverish mutterings asking forgiveness from a shade that only he could see. A shade that probably resembles the one Asra carries in his arms.

Asra looks exhausted and his should's tremble under the weight they carry, but he refused your help when you offered to help shoulder the burden. He tells you that you've done enough, that you've been punished enough, as if you wouldn't fight tooth and nail all over again if it meant keeping him safe. You know it's foolish to push when Arsa's made up his mind about something.

You sigh. The dead do no care. They do not long for another life. It's unthinkable to you _they_ would have wanted this. It's tragic that they died in the plague, yes, but so did thousands of others. They would have gladly given their life...no, they _did_ give up their life so that other people could live, so that a cure could be found. That's why they became the doctor's apprentice, to save lives, whatever that means.

To you life is just a series of one tragedy after another with stolen moments of solitude and peace. Asra refuses to see it, but he didn't do this for them, he brought them back to "life" to ease his own guilt and you would be a poor friend to steal that last shred of hope away from him. It's selfish of you really because you need a hopeful Asra. His hope makes him a shining light in your world of darkness and danger.

Cradled in Asra's arms they breathe softly, but alive. Asra's own heart brought to life. There's a macabre poetry to it, but you can't find the words to do it justice.

Several days later you realize how true your first impression is. The shade Asra brought back to the shop is merely that, a shadow, an empty shell. Just like the price to remove of your memories is too high, it would seem that a perfect resurrection from death is impossible. Asra frets over them constantly forgetting to take care of himself in the process. The empty shell is weak as a new born and knows nothing of the world, how to stand or even crawl.

This makes sense, you suppose. They are a perfectly blank slate for Asra to mold and guide with his blind hope and magical wiles. You remember an old story from far away about fairy creatures called "changelings" and wonder what Arcana creature has sneaked into your world under the disguise of a wish-come-true.

When you think Asra is ready to be on his own with his... _apprentice_ as the city folks call them now (for why would they recognize that one of their own plague-killed had been returned to them?), you return to the forest. Once there you resume your duty as its protector. Finally, something good can come out of your time as Lucio's warrior slave. For now at least, you are free.

Maybe someday Asra will find his own freedom too.

But for now you will watch the apprentice carefully for any sign of danger there. 

After all, everything has its price. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Muriel's route is automatically my fav despite only having one chapter because that means Asra brought the apprentice back to life...only to watch them fall in love with his best friend. It's my absolute favorite kind of bittersweet story. Muriel is also my favorite character so I obviously want him to have all the good things (and I think Asra would want that too)


	4. Modern Music AU Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What was supposed to be a quick read got a little carried away and will now be split into two parts for the sake of my sanity.
> 
> Famous musician composer Nadia Satrinava visits your lonely student apartment one evening with an unusual request; Write lyrics to a hit song that'll knock her ex-boyfriend, the famous rocker Lucio, off the Billboard Charts. Easy right? After all his number one song is a cover of a song you wrote for your *aunt's* band when you were a teenager. Can you find a spark of magic to make a hit song again or did the magic die with your aunt? Maybe some new and exciting friends give you the inspiration that you need.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Proofreading? What proofreading? I'm tired....

You wake up to the sound of persistent knocking coming from your front door. Your reading glasses are sitting skewedly on your face and there's a smudge on the textbook you were using as an impromptu pillow where you drooled on it. You sit up and stretch trying to get your bearings.

  
It's dark outside, but the clock tells you it’s still early in the evening, way too early to be sleeping anyway especially when you look over the assortment of empty coffee cups that are sitting in every available space unoccupied by books and notes. Well, nobody said writing a master's thesis would be easy. Still you congratulate your past-self for ordering food because there's no other reason for anyone to be visiting your apartment this late in the day.

  
You get up and shout to the front door that you're coming and feel around for your wallet for a tip before remembering that the app service you use would have already taken care of it. Now if you could just remember what you ordered...

  
".................Nadia Satrinava?" You blink through your sleepy haze to make sure you're not dreaming. There's no way Nadia Satrinava is outside your door. It's obviously just a beautiful lady wearing large sunglasses and a scarf that only looks like Nadia.

  
"Well," Can't-really-be-Nadia says. "Aren't you going to invite me in?"

<><><><><>

You set down a cup of hot tea for your guest and save a second one for yourself trying not to feel self-conscious about the chaotic state of your apartment. If Nadia Satrinava wants to visit a clean apartment, she can call ahead like any other reasonable person. Now you just have to figure out what a celebrity is doing in your living room.

  
Nadia considers you carefully. "Hmmm, you're not what I was expecting."

  
You take a sip of your tea in the hope it'll give you enough time to come up with a tactful reply.

"You were expecting some other master's student then?" You wave a hand at the assortment of book piles that surround you. "This is me in my natural habitat."

  
"Why English?" Nadia asks.

  
"Language is a powerful tool, if used correctly," you reply. "Books, poetry, political speeches, media spins...You don't influence people with facts and figures, you use persuasive language. A scientist can tell you a fact, but I can tell you the truth..." You smirk behind your mug. "Or rather the truth I want you to believe. It's almost like magic really."

  
Nadia nods in agreement. Her face is passive, but her eyes tell you that you've impressed her. Now, you can ask your own questions and expect the truth.

  
"How did you find me?" You ask. "Why did you find me. I can't imagine we've ever run in the same circles."

  
"Ah, but you clearly know who I am."

  
"The youngest darling of the Satrinava family?" You raise an eyebrow. "Anyone who's ever picked up a musical instrument knows about your family. The only reason Julliard doesn't have a building named after each and every one of your sisters is because...actually, why doesn't Julliard have a building named after each of your sisters? Your family is the face of modern classical music."

  
"...Well, we do have a doctor in the family." Nadia pulls her shoulders back to hide her discomfort. "And two diplomats. It's not all about music. I didn't even go to Julliard."

You just barely resist the urge to pinch the bridge of your nose and sigh. "That's not the point. My question is...Why are you here? I'm a nobody."

  
Nadia pulls out her phone and pulls up a grainy video that's nearly ten years old by the look of it. It's a video taken from the vantage point of the audience at a rock concert. You recognize it as the second to last song at your aunt's farewell tour and your chest begins to hurt. It was her band's last gig and finally, finally, your parents had allowed you to go. In the video your aunt pulls a "random" person from the audience on stage to help sing the next song; your song. It was a promotion thing and your aunt had asked you to come up with something that would resonate with a younger audience. You're the author of the lyrics, but your aunt is the one who did the music. It's a catchy song in a bubble-gum sort of way which was probably why the radio kept playing the latest cover of it. You usually change the station whenever it comes on, because you can't think about it without thinking about your aunt.

  
"That's you." She points to the "random" audience member. "That's your song."

  
"We sold the rights to that song to cover my medical bills." The correction rolls off your tongue with the ease of practice. "It's Lucio's song now."

  
"But you wrote it." She says firmly.

  
Why does Nadia keep coming back to that?

"Just the lyrics," you reiterate.

  
Nadia folds her hands together like she's just closed a million-dollar deal and smirks. "Meaning you could do it again," she says more to herself than to you.

  
"...wait...What?!" You can't have heard that right. This has to be some weird dream and you should really stop analyzing Kafka's The Metamorphosis before bed.

  
"You wrote and sang what eventually became a hit record when you were a teenager." Nadia says with an air of controlled patience like she was instructing a not-so-bright student.

  
"I wrote a goddamn girly poem that my aunt thought would do okay with a few rip cords added to it!" You start to shake with anger because it's just so stupid. That song is just so, stupid. "It's stupid that people like it so much!"

  
Nadia's eyes light up. "So you're saying that now you could do better?"

  
"Mmmm...Well....yeah, probably." You hadn't considered before since that song had definitely only meant to be a one-off thing. "My rhyming vocabulary is a lot bigger now for starters. Do you realize how hard it was for my 15-year-old-self to come up with something that rhymes with 'lemons'?"

  
Nadia perks up even more. "So, you'll help me then?"

  
"...wait, what? Help you do what, exactly?" You're still convinced that this is somehow the weirdest dream ever.

  
Nadia looks pleased with herself as she says, "Lucio found a golden egg, but I want the golden goose."

  
"......okay?"

  
"I want you to be my partner," she says decidedly. "We're going to make a band and you're going to help me make a fool out of Lucio."

  
"....is that strictly necessary?" You ask. "I've seen the tabloids. Lucio's definitely the kind of guy that believes there's no such thing as bad press, which means this is definitely going to backfire on us horribly."

  
"Oh, ye of little faith." Nadia holds out her hand to you to shake. "So, what do you say, partner?"

<><><><><>

Well, as trippy as it seems Nadia's visit hadn't been a dream. Somehow on top of attending your master's classes, nightly readings, remembering to eat something other than coffee and take-out, you need to find a way to channel your 15-year-old-self that was in love with all things rock 'n roll and write up some catchy lyrics that will make the masses swoon and make Lucio look like a has-been. Obviously, the first place to look is the root of the not-so-little feud between Nadia and her ex.

  
It's not a pretty break up.

  
You question why they even dated. Seriously, two big diva personalities clashing is not a huge surprise to anyone, so why does Nadia want to make a huge production out of making her ex look bad? Obviously, Lucio is a subpar artist if his major money maker is *that* song, because that means a 15-year-old-girl could write better lyrics than he can. Is that what this is about? Did he dedicate that song to Nadia or something and then she manages to find the only video in existence that shows the truth? Then again, you might not understand the reasons even if Nadia told you. Celebrities are crazy and Nadia's plan is *insane*!  
Nadia wants to form a music group from scratch, get enough publicity so that they'll be invited to the next rock festival that's only six months away, and blast Lucio's subpar cover out of the water with bigger, better content from the original creator. Nadia already has name for this mythical group that she's going to put together; She's calling it "The Arcana". You figure that's fine since you need all the luck you can get.

  
A twitch of pain strikes your dominate hand and shoots up all the way to your shoulder wrapping around your back making you lean over your desk and groan. Normally it doesn't bother you and, all things considered, there are worse life-long injuries resulting from car crashes. The occasional finger joint locking up isn't anything at all really, just a nuisance.

  
"Give it to me straight, Doc," you chuckle. "Will I ever play piano again?" Once the giggles have passed you leave your computer to go find your trusty wrist brace and some aspirin. You need a break from studying anyway.

<><><><><>

  
A few days later Nadia drops in on you again.

  
"Are you...crying?" She asks startled.

  
You quickly wipe your face on your sleep. "I was doing research!"

  
You show Nadia the tabs you have open on your laptop.

  
"It wouldn't be a real victory if we go up against Lucio with the same old, same old." You explain, "Nadia, you have the one thing Lucio doesn't have, legitimate class. Lucio will be up there singing about Romeo and Juliet, while you will be up there singing about Tristan and Istole."

  
"Hmm?" Nadia raises an eyebrow not quite understanding what you mean.

  
"Shakespeare did a wonderful job capturing the fleeting passion and impulsiveness of young love, but the real tragedy of that play was that the feud cost the families' their next generation. It's not about love, not really." You sigh as you tap the book sitting on your desk. "But Tristan and Istole? They were willing to risk the eternal damnation to be together."

  
You click on the first tab Sheppard's "Geronimo" starts playing.

  
"Catchy, but vague." You critique. "The music is decent, but the lyrics are just too vague to have any real substance to them. I prefer my music to be a bit more...meatier. This is like a soup broth. It had great potential, but it needed heartier ingredients."

  
The next tab shows Andrea Bocelli's "Con Te Partiro". You let the video play and can see Nadia's lips move as she translates,

  
_With you I shall leave/to countries I never saw and shared with you/now, yes, I shall live them/I'll go with you on ships across seas/which, I know/no, no, exist no longer/With you I shall leave..._

  
Your shoulders slump.

  
"It reminds me of my aunt," you tell her.

  
That's the one secret nobody knows. Everybody knows your aunt as the rocker, the risk taker, the wild child. Everybody knows she had her first kid at 21 and struggled to balance her family life with her music. Everyone knows that your aunt was married three times before swearing it off all together. You remember all the time she'd crashed at your mom's house because your mom would never kick her older sister to the curb. What nobody knows is that under all the leather and metal was a classically trained artist who could belt out a Rolling Stones song one minute and then sweetly sing Ave Maria in the next. Nobody knows that occasionally your aunt liked to tie up her hair, put on a smart black dress, and take you to see a concert with a full orchestra. Nobody knows that the secret to your aunt's success was that she secretly had class. That's why you agreed to help Nadia, not to get back at Lucio, but to feel connected to your aunt again.

  
"I see," Nadia replies delicately.

<><><><><>

One thing being a master student teaches you is the importance of breaks and that's why you find yourself bundled up in your one good coat sitting on a sunny park bench with a pen clutched between your teeth. Your wrist brace is back on so the pen and note pad are just useless accessories at this point. You can write with your other hand in a pinch, but it's barely legible and not really worth the effort. The view is almost perfect if Lucio's smug mug wasn't gracing the billboard directly within your line of sight. It's not doing much for your creative process and you had come to this spot specifically to work on the lyrics Nadia requested.   
"O Divine Poesy, goddess, daughter of Zeus, sustain me for this song..." you whisper under your breath. Naturally the muses remain silent as you watch the all people walk passed you engrossed in their own affairs. How do you call out to them? How do you get their attention so that they ignore the giant head staring down at them like royalty? Lucio isn't as terrible as Nadia makes him out to be...well, as a human being he probably is the worst, but as an artist he didn't get to where he was by luck alone. Lucio is a master showman. It's not so much that he makes you adore him, but rather he makes it look uncool not to and Nadia expects you to topple his empire with a few catchy lyrics? It's impossible.

  
You slump back against the bench in sudden exhaustion. It's hopeless, but it's not like you have anything to lose. You'll write a few songs, show Nadia that the spark died with your aunt, and you'll go back to your normal, everyday routine of Chinese on monday, tacos on tuesday, curry on wednsday, leftovers on thursday, noodle cups on friday. Rinse, lather, repeat.

  
The wind starts to pick up and rustle the pages from your notepad. You pull the collar of you coat a little tighter and sigh. Break over it seems. There's no use trying to write and fight the wind at the same time.

  
"Hey! Come back here!" You hear someone shout.

You look up to see the fluffiest head of blond hair you've ever seen in your life. In the afternoon light it almost looks white and you instantly adore it the same way you love all puppies and kittens on principle alone. All things fluff must be adored. It's simple physics really. Then you realize that there's an actual human attached to the fluff and they're running a mad dash after a wide brim hat that's caught up in the wind like a kite.

  
You see the wind suddenly change directions and the hat does a 180 turn and flutters just out of reach of its desperate pursuer heading in your direction. Thinking quickly, you stand up on the park bench and snatch the hat right out of the wind. It fights the capture almost as if it were alive until the wind dies down again. The hat is brightly colored with several shades that you hadn't realized could complement each other and it has a ridiculously long feather sticking out of one side. You step down off the bench just as the hat's own reaches you.

  
The owner looks at you with a rather dumbfounded expression. Not knowing what to say you just hand the hat back silently. It's obviously his hat since the owner's outfit is just as colorful at the hat and includes a ridiculously long scarf that complements the long feather. You're not sure what to make of it really.

  
"Are you an angel?" the stranger asks suddenly.

  
"No. Are you an actor?" You can't think of anyone else who would wear such an outfit.

  
"Musician," the hat-owner corrects. Makes sense. Can't seem to swing a cat without hitting one these days.

  
"My second guess." You tell them. In your pocket your phone chirps to let you know that your break is well past over now. You pull it out to check the time and sigh. There's so much reading you need to do tonight, again. Stupid master's classes.

You turn to leave when the hat-owner catches your arm. "W-wait..."

  
"Yes?" You glance at them over your shoulder.

  
"....Coffee?"

  
"What?"

  
"Can I buy you coffee?" the hat owner looks at you pleadingly.

  
"Sure."

  
"Really?"

  
"Of course." You were just about to get some anyway so would be downright sacrilegious to refuse free coffee. "If you're buying fluffy."

  
"Fluffy?"

  
You poke one of his messy curls. "Fluffy."

  
The hat-owner chuckles. "My name's Asra."

  
"If you say so, fluffy."

<><><><><>

The one time you remember to buy groceries is the one time it decides to rain cats and dogs. Nadia generously offers to pay for food after checking up on you and you promise yourself not to waste it on greasy take out. So, of course you're left standing at a deserted bus stop with two bags of groceries in each hand and it's freaking raining. Worst of all your favorite, softest most comfortable pajamas are hanging up outside because it wasn't raining this morning when you washed them and you forgot to add hot chocolate to your shopping list. This is the worst day ever and you would be crying if the sky wasn't doing it for you. Okay, you're totally tearing up, but it is what it is even if the now waterlogged grocery bags are preventing you from wiping your runny nose on your sleeve.

  
Eventually you realize the soft distressed mewing sound isn't coming from your labored breaths and is instead coming behind you down the dark alley. Of course it's dark alley. It's always a dark alley in the movies and frankly your day isn't bad enough already so why now temp fate a little? You know wet shopping bags are probably not the best of defensive weapons, but on the bright side getting mugged is the perfect excuse not to get any reading homework done tonight. You know it's a sad day when you're willing to use any excuse to get out of your reading assignment.

  
The heavy rain masks your footsteps as you tread closer to the alley.

  
"Hello?" you whisper. You don't see anyone at first, but you definitely hear more distressed cries that could only come from something tiny and adorable. You walk a little further into the alley and see someone crouched down low to the ground.

  
"Hello? Do you need some help?" You call out to the person and see them flinch as you speak.

  
You watch as they stand up, and up, and oh jeeeze is he tall. You're staring up a scruffy many in a black hoody that has clearly seen better days. He has pretty eyes though. The obvious blush on his face really makes the green eyes stand out even more. You would think that a tall, dark, and gruff looking guy would be the last thing you'd want to meet in a dark alley, but the wet cardboard box full of kitten's really kills the dark and foreboding picture he was going for. Not to mention the poor guy is probably soaked to the bone.

  
"....they're hungry..." the man says in a low voice. You hear a grumble that is much to loud to have come from the kittens.

  
You sigh. "I guess we're calling for a cab then."

<><><><><><><>

"I'll get some towels," you tell him as you unlock the door to your apartment. "Just put the groceries on the kitchen counter."

  
Your unexpected guest does that while you take the half drowned furballs to the bathroom and settle them down in the bath tub. The first thing they'll need is to get warm and then you can see about the food situation. You think one of your neighbors fosters kittens for the local shelter and might have some formula on hand or at the very least know where to get some on short notice. After that you can figure out what to do with the bigger kitten who followed you home. You shiver and remember that your own clothes are absolutely soaked. A hair dryer would probably scare the little things silly so you're left with toweling them dry as quick as you can. Soon your guest arrives and you motion for him to take over.

  
"My neighbor might have some kitten formula," you tell him. "I'll be back in few minutes."

  
Finally something goes your way. Your neighbor is home and she does have both formula and bottles for you to use. She agrees that it was probably best not to move the kittens anymore that evening, but she promised to come by in the morning to take them to the shelter so a vet could see to them. You're definitely not ready to become a single parent of six fur babies even if they are absolutely adorable. Maybe it's about time for you to adopt an older cat that wouldn't need as much attention and would be better adjusted to your study schedule.

  
You open the door to your bathroom and nearly drop the bottles you were carrying when you see your guest sitting in the bathtub wearing just a towel and all six kittens sitting his lap. Well, it's not like you had any extra clothes that would actually fit him.

  
"Um..." you try to think of something intelligent to say. You're a master's student! In English! For goodness sake you analyze words for a living so it shouldn't be difficult to talk to a tall, dark...in a towel...with kittens...kittens...Oh, right the kittens. You pass your guest one of the bottles of formula for the kittens. Fortunately he seems to catch on quickly. You scoop up a kitten for yourself and start feeding him. All six of the little ones seem to have healthy appetites and your neighbor said they would need to be fed every few hours so it looks like you'll be finishing your reading assignments afterall...sigh.

  
"Is there someone you needed to call?" You ask your guest. "For a ride...spare clothes?"

  
Nods in the direction of the sink where his pants are laying half hazardly and there's a phone sitting on the counter next to it. "Battery's dead."

  
"Oh. I'll see if I have a charger that fits." After feeding the kittens. The kittens come first. But seriously, the dude is ripped. Body builder maybe? You notice an untold number of old scars litter the guy's torso that automatically make you think of the phrase, 'you should've seen the *other* guy' so maybe not. You try to nonchalantly pick up the next kitten without making it obvious that you're doing a Sherlock-scan on your guest. Seriously, who is this guy?

  
Once the kittens are taken care of and a charger is found your guest calls a friend to drop off some dry clothes.

  
"I don't want to make you uncomfortable," he says without making eye contact like he's the one that's feeling uneasy. "But they don't allow pets at the hotel."

  
"Oh? Just visiting?"

  
He nods.

"...and your friend?"

  
He nods again. "We work together."

  
There's an awkward silence.

  
"What do you do then?" you ask.

  
".....I'm a sound technician."

  
"Oh, so like studio recordings or like concerts and stuff?"

The guy shrugs. "I mostly haul around heavy equipment that costs more to repair than I do or so my boss claims."

  
You roll your eyes. "That's probably true, but your boss doesn't have to be an ass about it."

  
The guy shrugs again. "I need the job so I do the job."

  
"...What would you rather be doing?"

  
"...it's dumb." He looks towards the corner of the room as if doing so would make you disappear.

  
"I didn't ask if it was smart, I asked what you would rather be doing." you say not unkindly.

  
The guy looks super embarrassed so you just wait him out to see if he'll answer.

  
"....Substance farming."

  
"Really?" You hadn't seen that one coming. He nods looking even more embarrassed.

  
You try to break the tension by asking, "Soooooo how do you feel about hipster jokes?"

  
Thankfully you're awkward attempt to draw your guest out of his shell is interrupted by a knock on the door. Right, his friend must be at the door with a change of clothes and a way to get back to their hotel. You open the door and watch as your guest's friend takes off his ridiculously feathered hat.

  
"Oh," Asra looks stunned at you for a moment before he beams at you. "Hello again."

 

<><><><><><><>

You can't believe your ears.

"You work for Lucio?!" You're able to contain your shriek of horror, but just barely. Asra looks at you with a mixture of surprise and confusion like that hadn't been the response you were expecting. 

"Ah, not a fan?" He hazards as a guess. 

"Understatement," you mutter. You lean back in your couch hoping it would swallow you up. "I just don't know how you can stand working for that jerk."

Both you and Asra are sitting in the living room waiting for Muriel, your unexpected guest that failed to mention that he even had a name. Muriel was in the bathroom changing and probably checking on the kittens one last time before he left. Asra looks nervous now that his real occupation was out in the open. 

"Uh, well..." Asra pauses uncertainly. "It's...I did it for the song. Not Lucio."

Huh. That's a weird way to say it. Most people say they "do it for the music" not for...wait a minute...

"I saw _Masquerade_ 's farewell concert," Asra explains. "It's what inspired me to get serious. Muriel too. We lived in the same foster home and we had won those tickets..."

Asra's story fades into the background. That song. That stupid song again. Why can't people just let it _go_ for goodness sake? 

"...So when I heard that Lucio was updating their song I auditioned at the studio as a musician." Asra finished. He looks at you and blushes. "It's not a picnic working for Lucio, but it's a foot in the door and being able to play that song, even in a recording booth...it means everything to me."

Maintaining adult composure should be considered one of the trials of Heracles in that moment. You understand that every gets warm bubblies and gooey over the teenage-girl-worthy poem that your aunt riffed a guitar to, but it's the exact opposite for you and you can't tell him that. Sure, Asra seems like a nice guy, but Nadia hired you to make a laughing stock out of his boss and that juicy bit of news can't get back to Lucio.

Anger and guilt are swirling inside of you when Asra says, "Thank you."

"What?" You look at his face and he's staring at you like you hung the moon or something. 

"Thank you for writing that song."

"What??" You don't believe this. "You...know? About me?"

Asra nods and looks apologetic. "I recognized you. A-at the park. I wasn't sure at first, but your smile...You looked triumphant when you caught my hat. It's the same look you had when you sang that song in front of all those people." He blushes. "I didn't know until that moment that anyone could be that brave."

But you know it _wasn't_ brave. You know it was just an act, a publicity thing. You need to tell him, but...

"I still have a copy of the sheet music with your name on it." Asra tells you. "You're still credited as the writer."

You know. You remember. Your name and your aunt's are both on the sheet music, but you have different last names so no one made the connection. The story of a nobody writing a last hurrah song for a retiring band is too good to pass up. The song doesn't mean anything. It didn't mean anything until Lucio made it his own and at the same time made a name for himself. You barely remember because you spent most of that year grieving and recovering from your injuries.

"It's your song..."

"It's _Lucio's_ song." You snarl as your composure breaks. Asra snaps out of whatever reverie he was imagining in his mind and looks at you in concern.

"I sold it and he bought it." You tell him with anger and hurt in every word. "It paid the bills. Thank goodness. It paid a _lot_ of bills. It doesn't mean anything to me."

Asra looks at you sadly. "But it _did_ mean something back then. I remember how you looked back then. I'll never forget that moment."

"Asra," Muriel interrupts. He walks out of the bathroom fully dressed now with his other clothes rolled up under his arm. "We should be going."

Muriel finally makes eye-contact with you and his expression is one of understanding. You take a deep breath and this time you're the one who looks away. It's hard because you don't know how to tell Asra that his favorite song is a lie.

A lie that you don't think you can pull off again, but you don't know how to tell Nadia.

When your aunt died you buried everything, even the good memories, because they hurt and now everyone's asking you to dig those feelings back up again. You want to remember what that passion was like, but there's all this thorny grief in the way that you need to get through first.

_Worst writer's block ever_ , you think.

 

TBC...

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued....
> 
> This was seriously a lot shorter in my head, but after ten pages I was like "I should probably split this into two parts. I don't want people to think I've been slacking.' Stay tuned for part two where we finally get to see Portia and Julian! Oh, and I guess Lucio actually get's a speaking part next chapter, but I'm less excited about that.


	5. Modern Music AU Pt 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2/3 of my WHAT THE HELL THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A ONE-SHOT Modern Music AU  
> G rating for chapter, Apprentice and Julian get a little frisky, but because it's 4AM!!! right now and I'm tired, frisky happens happens off screen so you all have to use your own active imaginations for that bit. 
> 
> If you happen to write and/or draw active imaginations down, be sure to send me the link ;)
> 
> The next Chapter will be the *final showdown* and conclusion and, who knows, maybe Lucio will get some *actual* screen time in the next chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished the draft at 4:04 am so human editor not found *dies*  
> Can I just say how much I f*king love Muriel? He's not in *this* chapter, but his route is my fav by default. #MurielDeservesNiceThings

Your heart almost stops when Nadia texts you to meet her at a recording studio. Your lyrics aren't ready and hyperventilating is a strong possibility in the near future. Fortune is on your side, however. Nadia does't ask for the lyrics she and instead introduces you to her star pupil and percussionist.

Your first impression of Portia is that she is an absolute darling. She's friendly and excited to meet you. Everything she does makes you feel at home and at ease in and you love her instantly. Her youthful energy is contagious and she exhibits a heartfelt loyalty to her "big sister", Nadia.

"It was Nadia's after-school program that got me interested in music," Portia explains with a twinkle in her eye. "She encouraged me to follow my passion despite all the negative stereotypes."

Honest encouragement from a mentor, huh? You can relate to that.

"Percussion is definitely a boy's club and an underrated part of the art-form." You smile. "I'm glad it worked out for you."

Then to your dismay Portia looks sad for a moment.

"It almost didn't," She admits. "My brother... he was in a band a few years ago." She huffs. "Then the guy up and quits one day and vanishes off the face of the Earth!" Her face starts to flush with anger. "No word to his family! No word to his so-called friends! He could be dead in a ditch somewhere...ugh! But he's more than likely drunk off his ass in some bar before noon. Ugh! The freaking idiot!"

The outburst catches you by surprise. You wait for Portia to take a few deep breaths and calm down.

"When he up and vanished I wanted to drop everything and look for him," Portia says. "But I still had two years of high school left and had been thinking about what colleges I wanted to apply to. I almost gave all that up."

After a moment you figure, "Nadia offered to look for him for you so that you could concentrate on school."

Portia nods. "This music festival is going to get a lot of media coverage." She squares her shoulders a little. "It's my chance to get on stage and tell the world, tell Ilya, that I'm still looking for him and I want him to come home."

You feel your chest tighten. "Then...this...thing Nadia is doing, it means a lot to you."

"Finding my brother means everything to me," Portia tells you.

On the way out Nadia finally gives you a deadline and you want to cry. It's not enough time, not if you want to write a song that'll help Portia find her brother, not if you want win against Lucio.

<><><><>

Thursday's takeout smells like it's died a second death in the trashcan and friday's smells like it's trying to evolve into  higher lifeforms. You promise yourself that you'll take the trash out in a minute, after you finish the next verse. You stare at the line of prose you've just written for a few seconds before ripping out the page, crumpling it up in your hand and adding it to the growing pile that surrounds your desk.

The apartment is dead quiet because you don't want to accidentally steal a catchy line from the radio or your personal playlists. How the hell did your past self even do this? One song, that's all Nadia is asking for and yet the words you need end up jumbled on the page like a riddle in Lewis Carroll's Wonderland. How _is_ a raven like a writing desk? Can you even legally use that line? Wait, of course you can. This assignment is more taxing than your course work. You're surrounded by the greatest works ever published in the English language and yet words have failed you.

Nadia's deadline looms like a dark cloud over the horizon. See? Catchy, but overdone and useless to you. You have less than two weeks to come up with something, *anything*. Anything but the alphabet soup that leaks out of your pen. Sure, your poetry is technically good in a purely technical sense. Your professors would be pleased enough with it as an assignment, but it's not remarkable. It's not relocatable. It's _boring_.

You slump over over your desk. It's...just...it's a reflection of you, isn't it? You don't _do_ anything anymore. You don't go out with friends. You pinch every penny because school loans suck. You're stuck in the worst rut ever and your lyrics reflect that. There's no youthful sense of optimism, there's no passion. Your bubbly teen self believes in magic and unicorns, but your current adult self just can't deal.

You wonder if Lucio still believes in magic and unicorns. Honestly, if someone held a gun to your head and demanded make a list of things that you had absolute faith in you would probably list off gravity, death and taxes which doesn't exactly have the mass market appeal of magic and unicorns. Well, Nadia doesn't seem like the magic-and-unicorn type anyway so it's back to square one...again.

Another paper-ball is unceremoniously added to the pile next to your chair.

<><><><><><>

Experts say that driving drowsy is just as bad, if not worse, than driving drunk. You don't recall if that applies to walking. Actually, it's hard to recall much of anything at the moment. Maybe after the inside of your head stops ringing like a gong it'll all come back to you. The idea that an entire day's worth of lectures and readings getting knocked out of your head is distressing enough that you decide just to lay there a minute. Of course the stairs are wet from the rain. Of course you're tired. Of course you landed on your to-go coffee cup and now the back of your sweater is completely soaked. And, of course, you landed on your wrist wrong. You don't think it's broken. You don't think you have a concussion, but you also don't think it's a good idea to move just yet and you wonder which of your neighbors is going to be driving you to the low-cost clinic.

On the way to the clinic you ask your neighbor how the kittens are doing and she lets you flip through the series pictures she has saved on her phone. It's hard to jiggle the phone while keeping the bag of frozen peas on your wrist.

Your neighbor drops you off and the person at the desk has to help you fill out the intake form. It's a slow afternoon at the clinic and you're third in line once they make sure you're not in danger of dying or passing out. You're not sure whether to be embarrassed that you're still holding a bag of half-thawed peas or not. The patent ahead of you keeps sneezing every five minutes. Is this trip really worth risking a cold? You wish you had thought to bring some homework with you.

Eventually, though, your name is called. Height, weight, blood pressure, you know the drill. You prefer the clinic because it doesn't smell like a hospital. You really don't like hospitals. The NP pokes her head as soon as soon as your vitals are recorded.

"We have a med-student volunteer with us today," she tells you. "Do you mind if they shadow me during your visit?"

"That's fine." you tell her.

The NP gives you a bright smile and a tall red haired man in blue scrubs follows her in. You blink. The redhead looks familiar, but you can't place the man's face. He looks like he's in his mid-to-late 20s, but it's honestly hard to tell with redheads sometimes. You flinch when the NP starts poking at your wrist.

"Not broken," she confirms. "It might not even be sprained, but we'll want to keep it under wraps just in case. How's your head?"

"It's not too bad," You tell her wryly. "Since my wrist broke most of my fall."

The redhead chuckles. "Good. We wouldn't want anything to happen to a face as pretty as yours."

The NP shoots him a warning look before checking in with you. You suppress a smile and shrug. Since your entire back is still soaked in coffee and you're clothes are a wreck. Your face might be the only thing "pretty" about you at the moment.

"Now, in my professional opinion-" the redhead starts.

"You're not a professional yet, Julian." the NP interrupts.

"Fine, then Dr. S's professional opinion, which I can put together without them even being in the room, is what this patient needs most right now is a clean set of clothes, a ride home, and a solid nap." Julian declares confidently.

Actually, that sounds spot on. You nod suspiciously.

The NP sighs. "Julian..."

"I'm a volunteer Maria," Julian points out. "It's practically my calling to do the little things that pesky rules and regulations bar the rest of you from doing. I happen to have a clean set of gym clothes that I'm sure we can squeeze them into and a rust bucket that gets me from basic here-to-there." He looks at you. "With the patient's consent of course."

It's you exhaustion that allows you to swallow your pride this one time. You feel your eyes get a little misty and say, "Yes. Please."

<><><><>

The drive is quiet. After making your that you're nice and bundled up for the trip Julian turns on the radio to a low enough not to overwhelm you, but loud enough so that the silence isn't uncomfortable. It's nice.

"You're very kind," you tell him after a little while.

Julian smiles without taking his eyes off the road. "Well, I felt like I owe you one. More than one actually."

Your heart sinks. "Why's that?"

He shakes his head. "I figured you wouldn't remember me. You were pretty out of it back then, but shock tends to do that."

A bolt of ice shoots down your spine. "We've met?"

"I was...I was the one who called the ambulance." He looks decidedly uncomfortable saying it.

"The...accident." You realize immediate what he means. "You were there?"

"I tried to...but...I didn't know the first thing about first aid back then." He looks so, so guilty saying it. "If I did, maybe...maybe she wouldn't have..."

" **Don't**." You tell him firmly. "It's not your fault. It's the fault of whoever was driving that car. It doesn't matter that they didn't stop or whatever. They had been going too fast and that's on them."

Julian sighs.

"Yeah," He says quietly. "But in that moment I felt small and helpless in a way I never had before. I never wanted to feel like that again. It's a little strange, but that's how I found my calling. I want to help people, but I also need the comfort of knowing that I did everything possible, learned everything I could so that I'm not helpless like that again. I know that people are fragile, mortal, but I'm going to do everything in my power help them first. I don't want to be a burden to anyone."

He parks the the car and you finally notice you've made it to your apartment complex.

"Come on." Julian opens the car door for you. "The least I can do is make sure you get up the stairs in one piece."

You blush in embarrassment, but don't respond with a comment. Julian walks you to your door and you hesitate a moment before you go inside.

"Um, I need to give you your clothes back....Do you want to come inside?"

"Coffee?" Julian asks. "Or tea might be better. I really need to start cutting back on caffeine. At least until I start my residency."

"I have tea." You tell him and then invite him in. You brew the tea first and get Julian settled in the living room while you go and change. You drop your coffee soiled clothes next to the washing-machine. Your dryer is three months dead and you haven't gotten around to getting it repaired. It's hard to find people who fix appliances these days. You pull a set of comfy pajamas out and carefully fold the clothes Julian let you borrow as you change. When you bundle the borrowed clothes and return to the living room, Julian isn't there. You see him standing by your desk examining your discarded lyrics with interest.

"You're rather nosy," you point out as you hand over the clothes.

"I once fancied myself a musician," Julian unfolds a crumpled up page and studies it. "Haven't played in a while, though, so I know what it's like to be...rusty."

"Really." You raise and eyebrow. "I suppose 'rusty' is one word for it. I prefer 'atrocious'."

"Well, anyone would be if they were stuck looking at a desk and dusty old books for inspiration." Julian takes out his wallet and pulls out a folded up flyer. "This place is invite-only, but my name should be enough to get you in or..." He trails off.

"Or....?" you prompt.

Julian gives you a saucy grin before snatching a pen from off your desk. He flips the flyer over and writes down a cellphone number on the back. "Or you could let me buy you a drink. When you're feeling less like you took a tumble down a flight of stars off course. Take a few days to recover and let me know."

You take the flyer and look it over. The picture of The Rowdy Raven speak-easy looks like something out of the roaring 20s complete with shady looking mob bosses sitting in a dark corner. Julian says he needs to get back to the clinic to finish the rest of his shift and shows himself out. You consider just tossing the flyer in the trash...but it's been a while since you've done something for yourself. You promise to give it a few days, as Julian suggested, but even as your injury from the fall heals the weight of Nadia's expectations, Portia's hopes, and Lucio...

Julian picks up after the second ring. Your best clothes fit a little too well. You've lost weight without realizing it and that scares you a little. It's probably a good thing your first night out in a while is with an aspiring doctor. Julian must notice because he treats you to a light dinner from a cafe first.

"You'll need the carbs if you want more than one slot on your dance card," Julian explains hiding a mischievous smirk behind his coffee cup. "It's a live band and the brass section likes to keep it lively."

"I _know_ how to dance," you tell him while keeping your eyes down on the table. "But I haven't actually danced since before the accident. 'Rusty' doesn't even begin to cover it."

Julian reaches over and takes your free hand in both of his. His fingers are long and slender and his nails are trimmed and clean. You're momentary distracted by how soft they are before you look up to meet his sorrowful gaze.

"Don't let what happened steal of the joy out of your life, please." There's something pleading in his voice, but your don't find any pity there like you normally expect.

You point to yourself and say, "Kettle." Then you point at him. "Pot."

Julian's mouth twitches in amusement.

"I'll stop feeling sad and empty when you stop feeling guilty," you say pointedly. "Deal?"

"Truce," Julian corrects as he sets the cups and plates off in a neat little stack for the busing staff and then stands up. "Just for tonight, how about we both take a break from the heavy stuff. Sound good?"

"Okay." It'll be hard, but you definitely deserve a break even if it's from yourself.

Julian tucks your hand in his elbow like a gentleman. He flashes you saucy smile like the one in your apartment and asks, "Ready to paint the town?"

<><><><><><><>

The flyer might have been only slightly misleading. The Rowdy Raven has a 20s vibe, but there's a modern flavor added to it. "Electro-swing" is what Julian calls it. There's a live band, but the instruments are all electric and a DJ is spinning in his little sound booth like a mad-man scratching records and playing with the sound controls. The patrons are dressed in a strange mix of formal and casual. Julian leads you around the edge of the dance floor dodging the other patrons with the ease of practice all the way to the bar. The bartender sees Julian and gives a quick nod before handing a tray of drinks to a lady in a neon green flapper dress accented with bright pink feathers.

"What's your poison?" Julian asks.

"What do you recommend?"

Julian thinks for a moment. "Salty-bitters is what they're famous for, but I would recommend something a little more..." Julian signals the bartender.

The drink he picks is sweet with and refreshing as you take a sip.

"Good?" Julian asks.

You reach over and switch your cup for his.

"It is now," you reply with a smirk. You take a long swig of the Salty-bitters. "I thought we were ignoring your guilt complex tonight?"

Julian chuckles and finishes the rest of the swapped drink. "Point. What shall we discuss instead?"

Both of you only manage one more drink before the dance floor beckons. A handful of other patrons steal you for a dance, but your eyes keep seeking out Julian's and he's quick to snatch you back into another dance until you're both out of breath and giddy. The heat of the exercise has forced Julian to unbutton the top few buttons of his shirt exposing the red hairs on his chest. You're not the only one caught staring, but Julian is quick to turn down other advances. It feels good to be the focus of someone's attention.

When your feet start to ache and your head starts to droop Julian wraps a supportive arm around your shoulders and escorts you home. Julian walks you to your door and before he can wish you "good night" you pull him in for a peck on the lips. You trace you hand down his arm suggestively, "Do you want to come in?"

<><><><><>

You release a contented sigh as you cuddle up to Julian's side. He rubs your back in long, smooth strokes as he stares at the ceiling.

"I can hear you thinking," you complain and he freezes his movement. You move to lean on your elbow so you can study his face. "Truce over then?"

"The mountain of discarded papers around your desk has gotten bigger since I was last here," Julian says. "I know what artist's block looks like and I know that you haven't been taking care of yourself like you should be."

"So your guilt complex is telling you that if I was taking care of myself I wouldn't want to hang out with you." You rub your forehead to stave off the headache you feel coming on. "I happen to actually _like you_ , Julian."

"I like you too," Julian insists. "That's why I want you to be happy. If you can honestly say you are, I won't push it, but I don't really think that's the case."

You sigh and explain. You start with Nadia showing up out of the blue one day and end with the hopefully expression Portia wore when she told you about her plan to find her brother. Julian listens without interrupting and when you finish explaining he rubs his face with both hands and groans.

"I am probably the absolute worst person to give advice actually," he says. "My first instinct would be to stop doing what other people want you to. I'm more of a 'cut and run' kind of guy."

"Good to know," you comment dryly.

He looks at you startled. "No, wait. That came out wrong."

"It's fine, Julian."

"It really isn't." Julian hides his face again. "What I meant is, if you know what you're doing isn't working, it's okay to try something else. If doing what Nadia wants is making you miserable, then just don't do it. You can tell her 'no' and if she doesn't listen I'll tattle to her sister."

"Her sister?"

"Yeah, my mentor is Nadia's older sister...one of them anyway. Look, it's been a while since I've had to clobber a song together, but I assume the basics don't change all that much." He scratches his head. "To make it in the music business you have to be really sure about what you want. Everybody wants something so that's something everyone can relate to whether it's love, money, or fame. The reason your lyrics aren't working is because you're indecisive. Everyone else is willing to make a deal with the Devil -God knows I did- and if Lucio is anything, he's determined to get what he wants. If you can't match that then you can't beat Lucio, plain and simple."

He gives you a few minutes to let that sink in.

"I really do like you, Julian." You repeat in a near whisper.

Julian pulls you into a hug. "I know, but is this what you really want?"

It hurts both your pride and your heart that you're not sure of the answer to that.

Julian declines staying for breakfast the next morning saying that he needs to change and go to his classes. It's a bitter sweet feeling when he leaves because the two of you could work, you think. It would take time and you would need to be patient with each other because obviously you're both still healing from what happened years ago.

You turn around and look at your empty apartment before walking over to your book shelf. It's small compared to your textbooks and would have been easily missed unless someone was looking for it. The CD case has a layer of dust on.

"The Masquerade", the rock band that obviously inspired Lucio because he's ripped off their image and style every chance he could. Your aunt's band. You're surrounded by the greatest works in the English language because the one thing you missed the most about her is that she was a master storyteller and you've been trying for years to fill that void.

"But I do know what I want," you say quietly as you put the CD back on the shelf. "I just want my aunt back."


	6. Modern Music AU Pt 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last part of my Modern Music AU that was SUPPOSED to be a one-shot, but it was the fic that just refused to end. This chapter took for freaking ever to write (a few weeks of planning, outlining/finalizing scenes and then 9 hours of writing *dies*) Ta-da. 
> 
> [This chapter is unedited and probably full of mistakes because it is 2AM and I just want to be done with it and go to sleep before work tomorrow.]

Modern Music AU Part 3

"Does Asra know?" you ask quietly. 

Muriel doesn't look all that much different when it's not raining. It's like he carries a quiet gloom with him where ever he goes and he keeps to the shadows like it's his dearest wish to be swallowed by them completely. 

"I don't want him to know." Muriel says grumpily.

He tries to stand up and visibly winces as he does. The building behind him ends up holding most of his weight during the process, but ends up betraying him by knocking his hood back. You stare at the array of bruises blooming on his cheeks and knuckles and you _seriously_ doubt that Asra would believe Muriel is _that_ clumsy. The young man looks like he got jumped, which is half true. The other half of the truth is Lucio has Muriel running around doing his dirty work. This time "dirty work" brought friends with them and Muriel would have been worse off if you hadn't shouted something about calling the cops. You reach out to him, but immediately pull back when he flinches. 

"Can I at least check to make sure it's not serious?" You ask. You're not sure if you're allowed to be mad at Muriel or not. You're definitely pissed at Lucio for putting Muriel in the position of punching bag. You feel the weight of your phone in your pocket and consider calling Julian...but you know he has class and you don't trust Muriel not to bolt. 

"No hospitals." Muriel insists. Then a little quieter he says, "I don't like hospitals."

"Yeah," you agree in a voice just as quiet. "Me too."

You just feel so freaking _done_  with today. With Nadia's deadline looming over your classwork is suffering for it, so your professor calls for an impromptu meeting to "discuss your recent performance". You leave the campus later than you usually do which puts you at the bus stop just after the bus leaves, so you decide to walk a shortcut rather than wait for the next bus and that's what sets you on the path to find Muriel looking worse for wear. Muriel may be a man of few words, but it's easy enough to get the story out of him with some long pointed stares and pauses. Lucio is using Asra to blackmail him. If Muriel says "no" then Asra gets blacklisted in the industry. If they quit, they'll never work in the industry again. It's an open secret that Lucio is a scumbag, but he's a professional scumbag so they'll take his word over Asra's any day. 

Muriel's insight is just the cherry on top of your crap-tastic day. If only there was a way for you to take Julian's advice and just cut your loses. If you ever needed a way just to...to...

"...Do you have a DL?" you ask suddenly. 

"A what?"

"A driver's license." You repeat slowly as an idea blooms like a forbidden flower in your mind. "Do you have one?"

"...I...yeah?" Muriel looks thrown by the question.

"Cool. Then let's go." You grab his hand and start tugging him along. 

"Go where?"

"Anywhere, but here." You glance over your shoulder at him. "Unless you want Asra to see your face right now because even if he doesn't ask you any awkward questions, I sure as hell don't have to keep quiet."

Muriel is much more motivated to follow you after that threat. 

 

<><><><><><><><>

 

A storage container key is an odd memento if you think about it, but it's much easier for you to have that on hand then the thing inside. You really should just sell the damn thing and be done with it, but every so often you have this wild idea that you're finally over it, that you can sit behind the wheel and not have a panic attack.

But it doesn't work like that and you end up locking the container again and keeping the key right next to your apartment key like it's trapped in the same vicious cycle you're trapped in. 

Sure enough, the top is down just like you left it. There's dust everywhere, but the tank should still be full from last time. 

Muriel stops short behind you. "Is that...?"

"A cheap knock off of a '67 cobra? Yup." You chuckle a little bit and trace a finger along the sapphire blue. "It's looks pretty, but she's all fake.  The last guy quoted me 700 plus the cost of towing if I wanted to sell it. My aunt couldn't afford the real thing, but she was willing to pay a little over half price for the look. Said it made her feel like a rock star in a way the music couldn't. I never understood the appeal, but at least she runs...just not above 60mph."

You pull the keys out of the glove box and toss them to Muriel.

"Try not to get pulled over," you tell him as you settle down in the passenger seat. "The insurance is expired."

 

<><><><><><>

 

It's been far too long since you've been out of the city. With the top down and the wind in your hair it feels a lot like running away even though it isn't. You can't find it in you to let Nadia down by giving up and Muriel wouldn't leave Asra behind to deal with Lucio by himself. You let Muriel pick the radio station and let the music soothe you. It's kind of funny how easy it was to convince him to come along, like he needed a breath of freedom too. 

There's a look-out point just outside the city that has a great view of the sunset. You remember going there as an undergrad with your friends to drink and play truth or dare. The semicircle of boulders is still there and there are broken bottles scattered around left behind from the latest crop of students celebrating just before they all went back home for summer leaving the older, more serious students to toil over their summer classes. 

Muriel sits down on a large stone without saying anything and just watches the sun move closer to the horizon. You hoist yourself onto "your" boulder, the one that was always the smoothest and made you feel taller. You rest your chin on your knees and just enjoy the breeze as it caresses you. 

"You're different from most people."

At the sound of Muriel's deep tone you're pulled out of your soothing trance and look over at him. "Hmmm?"

"Most people talk too much." Muriel clarifies. 

"Mmmm, yeah." You close your eyes again. "How are you feeling?"

You're not surprised when Muriel doesn't respond.

"There's a first aid kit in the trunk," you explain. "If you wanted to fix yourself up."

If it were a manly pride thing, you'd insist on helping him, but you sense there's a different reason Muriel doesn't want anyone to touch his wounds. You can appreciate that. Even back in the day your friends knew there were certain questions they couldn't touch with their drinking games. You hear Muriel shuffle back to the car. The sunset is painting the city in bright, lively oranges and purple-pink hues. It's nice to just be able to breathe for once without the pressure of forcing ink to paper and forcing words into some logical order. It's nice to be with someone who isn't expecting anything from you.

You feel rather than see Muriel sit down again. 

"Why do you have a car if you can't drive?" Muriel asks.

You look over to see Muriel holding the key in his hand like it's a puzzle box to be solved. It's decorated with pink animal print and screams everything that you're not, flashy, loud, both fake and beautiful. It's obviously not "yours" despite being in your name. 

You smile so ruefully, it hurts. "If that car had been worth something, I wouldn't have needed to sell my song to Lucio. My aunt left me everything she owned, but it was all fake- the clothes, the jewelry, the car..." You hunch your shoulders a little so your body appears as small as you feel. "The only of thing of actual value was that song because it was mine, not the studio's."

"...but you needed money for the burial." Muriel guesses.

You nod. "I couldn't...physically go...my mom had to arrange everything...and then on top of my hospital bills and physical therapy...it was a _lot_ of money."

"Funerals are expensive." Muriel agrees. "They shouldn't be. The dead don't care, but those left behind have to pay for it."

"Lucio was willing to pay for it." You remember when the lawyer had first brought you the offer and the insane amount he quoted you; a flat fee with no additional royalties if the song proved to be a success.

"That song was worth something," Muriel agrees. "Before Lucio got his hands on it."

Your chest aches when you realize, "You were there too, with Asra."

"Back then, music used to mean something, too." Muriel sighs. "Lucio has a way of ruining that for people too."

"...People like Nadia?" That's a possibility you hadn't considered before. Maybe this was more than a revenge plot and it was actually Nadia's way of taking back something Lucio had almost ruined for her like he had done for you.

"...You know Nadia?" Muriel looks a little surprised by that. 

"She wants me to write a new song...but...I..." Your lip trembles as you consider your failing. "I can't...She wants me to show up Lucio, but Lucio does music for _living_ and I've only written one song ever and that was mostly my aunt. She just took a silly poem I had written and rearranged it to music. It was a _fluke_."

It's obvious you're upset because the world has turned blurry and hot with tears and even though it probably scares the hell out of him, you feel Muriel draw you into a hug. For a moment you're so full of shock that you don't react and just as Muriel is about to pull away like he's been burned you return the hug and bury you face in his back hoodie.

Muriel sounds really uncomfortable as he explains, "This is what Asra says to do when people are upset. He says I give the best hugs."

You nod. It is a good hug. Best one you've had in a while actually. Asra is a genius. You say all that out loud, but it gets smothered by Muriel's chest. He must have understood anyway because he relaxes slightly and you finally let him go. You wipe your eyes as he steps back and tell him, "Thank you."

It's getting dark and soon you won't be able to see the path back to the car without tripping over bottles, so you know it's time to go back. Muriel glances around and seems to silently agree. You decide to keep the top down on the car even though the drive back is freezing. You instruct Muriel to drop you off at your apartment, but when you get there there's somebody waiting, pacing back and forth frantically.

"Asra?"

"Muriel! There you are!" Asra's hair is in absolute disarray and his jaw nearly hits the ground when Muriel puts the car in park. "Where have you been? What happened?"

You glance over at Muriel who is trying to disappear into his hoodie. You sigh and start explaining from the beginning, finding Muriel and then taking him to a quiet spot to decompress and patch himself up. 

"Right, because 'no hospitals'." Asra covers his face and groans in exasperation. "Really, Muriel. You're the reason I have white hair."

"...that's a lie." You think Muriel looks absolutely adorable when he's pouting from being teased.

"Thank you," Asra turns back to you with a look of pure gratitude. "I guess you need your car back now."

"Oh, uhhhh." You don't really want to leave it in the apartment complex's parking lot and you can't drive it back to the storage unit yourself. You rub the back of your neck in embarrassment and confess, "I actually don't have my license anymore..." You glance at Muriel. "You could hold on to the storage key for now, in case you need get away for a while again."

Muriel shakes his head. "We're leaving the day after tomorrow," He tells you. "Lucio has a show."

"Oh, um..." That's a problem because it's late and you don't really want to have to catch a bus from the storage lot. Neither Muriel or Asra can magically show up with a car and there's no way they could pass it off as a rental.

"The music festival." You explain, "Nadia plans on challenging Lucio at the summer music festival. There's no way he'll back down from that so you can hold on to the key until then, okay."

"...okay." Asra agrees reluctantly as he stares at the car. Muriel shrugs. "Right, I guess we're dropping off the...really flashy looking car and then heading back."

Asra perks up when you say, "There's a first aid kit in the trunk. It might be useful."

While Muriel is refusing to look his friend in the eye you take deep breath and say, "Thank you, Muriel. This was something really needed, so thank you."

"...me too." Muriel grumbles with a blush.

"Okay then, um, good night. Until next time, I guess." It's an awkward "goodbye", but it'll have to do. 

But just as you're about to turn away Muriel says, "I don't think it was a fluke."

"What?" You turn back not sure if you heard right. 

Muriel glaces away as he speaks. "Your song. I don't think it was a fluke and I don't think it was your aunt who deserves the credit. When you sang, you were authentic, _real_." He taps the steering wheel. "Lucio's just playing a character. Your aunt was playing a character. But you're not a character. You're authentic. I think that's what Nadia is counting on. If you're real, then she can prove that Lucio is a fake."

He sighs, "But that's the problem. I don't think anybody actually cares that Lucio is a fake, so Nadia's plan isn't going to work."

"Yeah, me too." You admit quietly. "It's not enough."

Then it clicks. "But that's also why Lucio needs Asra," you realize. "Asra's raw talent makes up for Lucio's faults. That's why Lucio won't let him go." You look over at Muriel sadly. "That's why he won't let you go. Asra's your weakness and you're his so Lucio uses you against each other and you're both stuck."

"...yeah," Asra admits. "It's...exactly like that."

"Guys, if there's anything, _anything_ you can tell me about Lucio..." you find yourself pleading. "I'll get Nadia to help. You know Nadia will be willing help you if she can."

"She won't listen to me." Muriel says.

"She'll listen to _me_." You counter. Muriel looks determined not to say anything so you turn to the, hopefully more reasonable of the two. "Asra?"

Asra thinks for a minute before saying, "It's probably nothing, but Lucio used to have a partner." Asra tells you, "They were about to go big, like really big. Then one day the guy up and quits. It almost killed Lucio's career right there because the other guy was pulling most of the weight and all Lucio had to do was stand there and look pretty. Obviously this was before me and Muriel were hired. Lucio was desperate for new blood and he needed a lucky break."

"My song."

"He was betting everything he had on that song and it worked." Asra rubs his forehead. "A part of me regrets helping him, but I couldn't let anyone else touch it. It deserves to be known and loved."

"But why did his partner quit?" You ponder. "Lucio just up and let him leave?"

"Lucio wouldn't do that..." Asra points out. "There's no way Lucio would let anyone leave him without their reputation shredded beyond all recognition. You probably saw the media shit storm that followed is break up with Nadia. There's no way, especially not if it's the guy who almost took the ivory tower down with him when he left...unless..."

"Unless the guy had something on Lucio that Lucio didn't want getting out." You reason. "Someone actually beat him at his own game."

"...or he was the one who taught him the ropes, did you consider that?" Asra asked. "Whoever can pull a fast one on Lucio is not the kind of person you want to mess with. Muriel's right, you're better than that. You're better than all of us because you've still got your soul intact. Don't sell it cheap, don't sell it just to beat Lucio."

"Asra..."

The white haired musician sits on the door frame and then leans over to kiss your nose. You lean back in surprise and watch as he flutters his pretty eyes at you. "Promise me?"

You scowl. "Does that actually work on some people?"

"Works on Muriel all the time," Asra replies cheekily.

"It does not." Muriel seems to be trying and failing miserably to ignore the both of you. "Can we go now?"

You step back to let them pull out of the parking space. "Fine, I promise not to look for the guy-who-is-probably-evil-if-he-can-blackmail-Lucio."

Asra beams. "That's all I ask."

 

<><><><><><><>

 

It starts off so small you barely even notice it, just a few lines scratched on the back of a coffee receipt. 

You find more written on the side of your class notes next to where your exam review was supposed to be. 

It doesn't automatically click because it's not bubbles and unicorns this time.

No, this time it's about dragons and evil wizards. It's about your own personal Smaugs, about feeling small in the face of one great obstacle after another. It's how you felt waking up in the hospital for the first time with no one else in the room. It's like your body relearning how to move like it's supposed to despite every inch of muscle screaming in agony. It's a story everyone knows and one you know all too well. 

By the time the last line makes its way on the page you're in tears because everything hurts.

You tear out the finished song and set it aside. Nadia had only asked for one, but the itch in your hand hasn't settled yet. You fall asleep at your desk again that night, but only after you've been made blank and everything that was inside of you is transferred to the note-book-made-pillow underneath you. 

 

<><><><><><>

 

Nadia's eyes bulge (elegantly of course) as she flips page after page. "This is... more than I ever expected. They're perfect. We could do a whole debut album with this."

You slump back in relief. It's over. You can rest now. Nadia will take it from here and kick Lucio's ass. Nadia keeps singing your praises and you don't mean to, but you tune her out and almost drift off, but then she says, "...of course I already have several costumes in mind so I'll need your measurements before you leave today-"

You sit up in your chair suddenly. "Excuse me?"

"For the festival," Nadia repeats patiently. "I need your measurements for the live performance. I don't expect a college student to have the funds for a concert wardrobe, so you can leave everything to me. I've had a few color pallets in mind from the beginning, but I was waiting to see what you came up with before deciding on a theme."

"....costumes...as in...me...on...stage?" The dread from earlier returns in full force with both a carvery and infantry unit to back it up. 

Nadia looks at you puzzled by your confusion. "Of course." She tells you. "That was the plan. You're going to beat Lucio with a new song."

"...You didn't say I would be the one singing it!!!" You shriek in horror. "I thought I just had to write it! I'm not a singer! I don't even sing in the shower because the neighbors might hear me!"

"You sang the original song," Nadia points out.

"That was after I did vocal training with my aunt for _years_!" You genuinely feel like you might faint. Your vision is starting to blacken around the edges and it's a really good thing you're already sitting down. "And I have not sung in years. Nadia...I...."

Nadia reaches out and grabs your hands in hers. "You can. I'll help you. It's all muscle memory. After your accident you did physical therapy. This will the same. Just this once, then you never have to do it again if you don't want to. I promise. And if by the time the festival happens and you don't feel like you can do, you won't have to. But for now we'll train like you're going to be on that stage and then you can make the decision then. Okay?"

You nod slowly. "Okay."

 

<><><><><><>

 

Much to your relief you're actually just training to be a back up singer until just the right moment when you take center state and show up Lucio. Nadia wants to keep your identity a secret until then and wants to recreate the original video as closely as possible. The main difference is instead of being picked from the audience you'll already be on stage hidden the the background.

In the meantime Nadia hires other musicians make the demo tracks and distributes them to various radio stations. There's some hoops she has to jump through for that, but she tells you not to worry about. During the training you realize something, Nadia is being to soft on you. You know she cares and as she gets to know you she's beginning to regret using you in her revenge game, but it's too late for either of you to back out. You let her spoil you with clothes and material luxuries that you otherwise couldn't afford.

Over dinner Nadia confesses that there's something about you that appeals to the artist inside of her. She reassures you that it doesn't matter if your is not a perfect performance because it'll be an authentic one. You just have to preform one song for the festival and everyone will be so buzzed they won't remember if the song was good or not because Nadia is going to make you look like the star that she believes you to be. She tells you that you're her muse and she's like a devotee asking a Greek deity to accept her offering. You're flattered beyond words and sincerely hope not Greek deities are offended by Nadia's pronouncement. You recall from your studies that Greek Gods and Goddess tend to get snippy when mortals try to rise above their station.  

After Nadia's confession you're not entirely sure of her being able to maintain an objective opinion of your supposed talents. Fortunately you know where to get a second opinion. 

<><><><><><>

 

Julian takes the Popsicle stick off your tongue and hums thoughtfully. 

"There are some techniques that are flashy, but can damage the voice in the long run," he explains. "Normally I wouldn't recommend them but..."

"But nothing. This is a one-time thing." You tell him. "Either we beat Lucio at his own game or we don't. I don't belong on stage. I never have. I did it once before for my aunt and this time I'm willing to do it for everyone Lucio ever hurt, but after that no more. It's not me."

"Okay," Julian agrees. "Preforming on stage is like running a marathon. Even if you can't win, you'll still need to build enough stamina to cross the finish line. Basically, if you can't sing the entire song while running on a treadmill, then you can't make it through an entire live performance. People invented lip-syncing for reason...Now, I have a list of items you'll want to cut our of your diet. First of all dairy, definitely alcohol, and I'm sorry to do this too you, but chocolate's got to go too...."

 

<><><><><><>

 

All too soon it's the day of the festival. Nadia does everything in her power to make sure everything is perfect. Nadia even gets her family involved (and according to Portia that's some serious personal growth on her part) so that her every whim is catered to while Lucio (who only signed on to the festival after he heard about Nadia's big production) is treated like a second fiddle. Nadia's group, who she aptly named The Arcana, is treated like the main act and everyone is buzzing about it. 

You're not entirely sure you're not going to throw up. Being on stage is terrifying, even as a mere backup singer, and you've already sweat through two costumes. You get a break before the big reveal, your solo. Before now all of the backup singers were wearing masks, a tribute to your aunt's band, but now the "masquerade is over". It's too late to back out, but you're not sure if you can do it. 

You wait back stage while a costumer assistant makes the final fusses to your outfit. Nadia knows her stuff and you barely recognize yourself in the mirror, but at the same time it's like Nadia reached in to your very soul and pulled you out for the whole world to see. You shoo off the assistant for a moment alone.

You peak out to the stage as Nadia finishes up the current song. You can't even hear it over the sound of your own heartbeat.

"I can't do this..." you whisper trembling.

"Yes, you can."

You turn to see Asra and Muriel walking up to you. Asra is quick to sweep you up into a hug not caring about wrinkling Nadia's design. You sigh and sink into his embrace. You haven't seen them since that night.

"You're both here?" You knew Lucio was preforming at the festival, but you didn't think they would have time to come see you.

"Nadia stole us." Asra grinned mischievously. "There might have been a 'slight mix up' and she needed some experienced sound techies for the last half of her concert. Fortunately, Lucio already finished his show. Yours is the last performance of the night."

"Yeeeeaaah...no pressure." You squeak.

"Relax," Asra rubs your arms in comfort. "If Muriel can make Lucio sound good on stage, you'll be a piece of cake. Right Mur?"

"Easy enough." Muriel agrees. 

A third party clears their throat. "Well, we wouldn't want anyone to sneak in a steal the show then, would we?"

You whip around and your jaw drops when you see Julian's outfit. "Wha-?"

Instead of the scrubs you usually see him in, Julian is dressed from head to toe in black leather. His hair is styled and gelled in a punk-rock style and black eyeliner makes his eyes pop as they catch your gaze. Or maybe the eyeliner is more of a "hey, my eyes are up here" thing because his pants must have been painted on and leave little to the imagination. 

Asra and Muriel look equally stunned. 

"You're...but you can't be," Asra takes in Julian's appearance like he's seeing a ghost. 

Murial takes a half step forward and puts a protective arm around you. "Dr. Jules. Lucio's old ex-bandmate."

Julian clicks his tongue. "Asra and Muriel. Lucio's _current_ stooges. I wonder what Lucio is going to do you both once he finds out you've been helping the enemy."

"Oh, you wouldn't want _me_ as an enemy," Asra replies in a low and threatening tone. 

You roll your eyes at all of them. "Nobody's on Lucio's side, guys. You all know better than that." However you do tilt your head at Julian and say, "I don't recall you mentioning you knew Lucio."

"It's a part of my past I'd rather not relive ever again." Julian takes you hand and puts a gentle kiss on your knuckles. "But to show you my solidarity, I will gladly suffer it for one night." Julian straightens and winces. "I've been spoiled by my scrubs. This outfit isn't as comfortable as I remember."

"Solidarity?"

"Ah, my mentor might have arranged for me to sort of...fill in, so to speak." Julian shrugs in embarrassment. "Nadia doesn't know who I am and she let her sisters help with some of the organizing...so, basically, I'm your lead guitar."

"I thought you were 'rusty'?" 

"I might have picked it up again soon after we met." Julian wiggles his eyebrows at you. "There might have been someone I was trying to impress."

"So, if we suck..." You shrug. "At least we suck together, is that it?"

"Something like that," Julian says, but you can barely him over the roar of the crowd. Nadia's set is finished and it's your cue. 

Nadia knows her stuff. The song she picks for you is the one that was that was the most painful when you tore your heart out and bled it onto the blank page. The melody she weaves to the words isn't technically difficult like the ones she kept for her demos. No, this is _your_ song. You dream it at night and shove it deep down with coffee in the morning, but it still follows like a shadow though out the day. Nadia weaves the melody, picks out your clothes, picks the musicians, but the song is still all you. Honestly, it's a little scary how clearly she was able to see you. 

Portia and Nadia begin the intro and you feel your feet walk on stage following a rhythm you know by heart. The stage is covered in a smoke screen so your entrance is hidden by shadows. You sense Julian just a half beat behind you as he hurries to take his place. He picks up the tune with the ease of practice and honestly you're a little mad at him for keeping it a secret. 

Maybe just this once it's okay to play fool card; to rely on little beginner's luck, to believe in the universe, to have faith in the future, to be inexperienced and unknowing of what to expect...

Ah... You remember now, what it was like to reach up and grab your aunt's hand when she pulled you on stage back then.

You were never the type to reach for fame or glory- 

Even way back then you were reaching for something Lucio could never understand.

You were reaching for your _family_ and were willing even if it meant meeting them halfway. 

 

<><><><><><><>

 

The adrenaline wears off by the time you walk off stage and Nadia has to catch you. You're probably going to be in so much pain later, but you don't care because Nadia is absolutely giddy and all of you are flying on the concert equivalent of the best runner's high ever. You see Portia tackle Julian with so much force they nearly fall over. Julian laughs as Portia beast his shoulders with her fists. She's cussing out and she obviously wants to be angry, but her relief is palatable and soon she just starts sobbing into his leather jacket. Julian hugs her tightly and whispers apology after apology in low soothing tones. 

"Well, that explains a lot," you grumble. "The man has dramatic reveals down to an art form."

A loud slow clap catches your attentions and Nadia stands at stiff attention. 

You recognize Lucio from his billboards, but the smarmy older gentleman standing next to him slowing clapping for your group is a mystery. 

"Well done, marvelous performance," the old guy applauds. "You've simply out done yourself, Nadia dear. You've found quite the golden goose."

Julian not so discreetly moves so that Portia is standing behind him and Nadia gently nudges you into a more elegant posture that mirrors her own. 

"I don't recall giving you a backstage pass," Nadia says primly.

The other musicians give us a wide berth as they exit the stage and all of them gawk, not at Lucio, but rather his companion. He's obviously someone known in the business, but keeps out of the public eye. 

"Who's he?" You whisper to Julian.

"Lucio's agent," Julian replies. "Used to be mine too, before I quit. Everyone in the business knows him by his nickname, 'The Devil'. He's the kind of guy that knows how to pull strings."

"Great, so he's really the evil-mastermind and Lucio's just his brainless pawn." It's hard for you to keep composure when people keep leaving out important information. "That would have been nice to know _months_ ago, guys. You know, during the planning phase of this adventure not the day of."

Julian shrugs. "I figured the old man would have taken is cut of Lucio's money and retired by now."

"Yeah, well, I doubt he's here to invite us to tea and cookies," you grumble.

 

<><><><><><>

 

"Simply put, Nadia darling," the Devil taunts. "I want you to pack up your little band of misfits and go home. I'll send you a check in the morning for the rights to your little stunt."

"That's not going to happen." Nadia doesn't move an inch and uses her regal nature to stand toe-to-toe with the man. "You never could threaten me."

"You? No," the Devil admits. "But your little pets? Oh, most definitely. Unlike you they don't have mommy and daddy's money to fall back on. The rest of us have to work for a living. I could have every single one of you blacklisted and you'd never find work in the business again. I have soooo many friends who owe me favors."

Portia tries to stand firm, but the threat shakes a little. However, she's already reunited with Julian and both he and Nadia place a comforting hand on her shoulders. 

"No?" The Devil man looks at you. "How about you, love? You seem to be close with the techs. You wouldn't want them to end up in the breadlines."

You suppress a groan. "Seriously? You think it's the 1940s or something? You can't just 'blacklist' somebody and expect everyone to be on board with it. Some up and coming studio would just snatch Asra or he could self produce on YouTube or something. Go back to the dark ages already."

The Devil chuckles. "Hmmm, you aren't as dumb as you look. Point, I really can't do much to Asra, he's a slippery one, but Muriel and Julian wouldn't get very far with a criminal record, would they?"

"Unless they punch your lights out in the next two minutes, they haven't done anything." You tell him.

The Devil has the audacity to tsk at you. "Ah, ah, ah, now that's where you're wrong. Muriel already has a record and has even served time for illegal fighting. That pesky little check box means all of his resumes go strait into shredder without a second look. Frankly it was down right charitable of Lucio to hire him. Do you really want to ruin that for him?"

You swallow uneasily. That explains why Muriel was reluctant to leave despite how Lucio treats him and Asra wouldn't leave his best friend behind. 

"You don't have anything on me," Julian points out rather brazenly.

"Oh?" the Devil raises an unimpressed eyebrow. "I think you know exactly what we have on you."

"...That was _Lucio_ , not me." Julian replies through gritted teeth. 

"hmm, at the time it would have been a simple matter of he said, he said," the Devil told him. "But now that Lucio is a celebrity and you're a washout, who do you think the public is going to believe? Their golden boy or his jealous ex-bandmate? I know you still carry her death on your conscience, so it wouldn't be much of a stretch to the imagination that it was you behind the wheel that night. You were the one who dialed 911 despite having no explanation of how or why you were even there." The Devil gave a vicious smile. "And, according to the police report, you 'didn't see the crash', but actually you knew _exactly_ what the vehicle looked like. Instead of upholding justice, you decided to save your own skin and maintained the lie that you _weren't_ a passenger in very vehicle that killed the beloved aunt of the person next to you."

You feel everyone freeze and look at you. 

Really, the dramatic reveals are getting ridiculous. 

You sigh. "Julian?"

"Yes, dear?" Julian pointedly not looking at you as he says it.

"Later we are going to have a very _long_ and in-depth conversation about _honesty_ and trust in relationships, okay?"  You wait until he meets your gaze and signals his acknowledgement. "Very _soon_ , mind you. But later."

Once that was out of the way, you turn and deal with the more pressing matter. Lucio never sees it coming until you are right in his face and send a right hook to knock the smirk right off of it. Lucio stumbles backwards and falls on his ass.

"Hey! Watch the million-dollar face!" Lucio shrieks. 

"I don't care," you snap. "You killed my aunt, you son of bitch. What the hell did you think were you doing?"

"I-I-"

"Well?" You loom over him with all the force of years of pent up rage and unanswered questions. "I deserve that much, at least. I can't even _remember_ the freaking accident. The last thing I remember was sitting at a stoplight. I remember my aunt was in the passenger seat cracking jokes about the play we just saw...and I can't freaking even remember! The play, what we had for dinner...it's all gone! The next thing I know I'm waking up in the hospital _alone_ because my mom couldn't find a flight until the next day and my aunt is _dead_ and I deserve to know  _why_ , goddammit!"

You stare Lucio down and he honestly looks a little terrified of you. You keep looking at him, trying to piece together what could have happened. You remember the list of injuries the doctor rattled off to your mom through a haze of pain medications. 

"You ran the light." 

Lucio flinches which means your guess is probably spot on. 

"You would have had to have been going at least 70...through what you thought was a deserted intersection." You glance at Julian for confirmation. "Not so deserted, huh? So, what was soooo goddamn important that you couldn't have waited two minutes at a light?"

"...a party." Lucio looks more remorseful about finally being caught than actually hurting someone. "We had just signed on with a record label. We were on our way to celebrate."

A "party", how anti-climatic of him.

"Why didn't you stop after you hit our car?"

Lucio frowned. "I would have been arrested for reckless driving and then the label would have canceled our contract. Jules wanted to stop and help, so I let him, but I wasn't going to lose my shot at fame."

"Julian threatened to expose you...?"

"Ha! Goody-two-shoes over there suddenly decided wanted to 'give up music to help people'." Lucio scoffed. "But that was only after weeks and weeks of the guilt just eating him up inside. He was still part of the conspiracy that covered it up. I let him go after he promised not to tell anyone what he knew about that night and as you can see, it was a promise he kept like the good boy he is."

"So what?" Julian steps forward and crosses his arms. "From the sound of things, the only one you really have dirt on is me -and that Muriel guy or whatever- But! if I'm going down, so are you, Lucio."

"Are you really willing to risk it, Jules?" Lucio pulls himself to his feet. "You can't heal any booboos if you're behind bars."

"Lucio already has the best lawyer," the Devil pointed out. "What do you have?"

Nadia moves to stand next to Julian. "He will have my family lawyer at his disposal."

"...aren't you all forgetting something?" Again you feel a headache coming on and pinch your forehead in irritation. "The statute of limitations is already up, guys. You're having a pissing contest over nothing."

Julian looks a little gobsmacked. "They...what?"

"They _might_  have able to slap Lucio with a fine, which whatever for him right?" You cross your arms. "Or the the most they could do is take his driver's license away, but once again, whoop-dee-doo, he probably has somebody driving his ass around anyway or he's riding a swanky tour bus. The point is Devil-what's-your-name, that you have absolutely no power over any of us. Pack up your side-show and scram. I'm not selling anymore songs for your dancing monkey to sing."

"D-d-dancing monkey?!" Lucio squawks. 

A flash of movement and fluffy white hair catch the corner of your eye. "Oh, by the way..." You give your mic a few taps and the echo is heard through-out the stage area. Both Lucio and the Devil pale in absolute horror at the sound. "You realize _everybody_ heard that right? I look forward to reading the hashtags your Bond-villain monologue spawned over night."

The villainous duo look over to the sound booth where Asra and Muriel are still sitting. Asra waves cheerfully and Muriel looks oddly pleased with himself.

"Oh, and Lucio?" Asra says into a spare microphone. "We quit."

   


<><><><><><> **Epilogue** **:** _ **Several Years Later**_ <><><><><><> 

Once the fall out from the big reveal at the music festival passes you're able to graduate with honors. Once nice thing about all the publicity is your books sell well regardless of the genre or content. Your novel series does modestly well, but it's your academic essays that supply your bread money. It seems that more and more people would rather read _about_  classic literature, than actually read classic literature.

Occasionally you'll send a lyric Nadia's way, but The Arcana manages to find its own footing without you. After graduating you finally get around to renewing your driver's license, but you still prefer is someone else drives. 

Officially, or on paper at least, you live with Muriel as a "major investor" of his subsistence farm. Unofficially it's a little more complicated than that. When you're in between writing projects you're either keeping Muriel company while Asra is touring the country at Asra's request or you're touring the country with Asra and "keeping him out of trouble" at Muriel's request. When you're in the middle of a writing project Muriel and Asra take turns making sure you eat enough and fall asleep in bed instead of at your desk like you used to do during your student days. The three of you agree that there's really not point in putting a label on whatever "it" is. The media would probably go mad with speculation if you and Muriel weren't such hermits. The only time the public sees you outside of book signings is when Nadia needs a spare plus-one for when Portia can't make an event because her own career is finally taking off.

Today, though, all of your favorite people are in one place instead of scattered across the world. Nadia and Portia arrive early and together like usual. Julian is fashionably late and kisses your hand in greeting despite receiving another death glare from Muriel. Asra arrives last, but honestly the party would hardly have stated without him. Muriel sticks close to you and you let Asra do most of the talking.

Inevitably after a few drinks Julian starts caterwauling a "famous" drinking song he probably made up on the spot and before long everyone is joined in and singing together, enjoying music as it was truly meant to be, without all the glitz and glamour.

It's warm, it's wonderful, and it's everything you were missing before Nadia knocked on your door that night.

It's a home and it's family.

   


[The End]


	7. *Author's Note*

Bad news folks. It finally happened. My laptop has been on its last leg for a while, kept giving me popup notices about the C drive being full and all that because it's several years old and I bought it refurbished. It finally kicked the bucket today and _ALL_ of my drafts are gone. It's very "writer's worst nightmare" _except_ for the fact that I keep all my outlines in hardcopy form. It just means I need to type up the drafts again which will take a little while on top of buying a new laptop so updates will be very slow, if not nonexistant for the next month. So! Here are some teaser notes about what I have planned next:

1\. Celtic-fairy story AU where Nadia and the Apprentice are noble Fae that sneak into the human realm and cause mischief on the rest of the cast

2\. (and one I'm really excited for) The Apprentice explores the possibility of parenthood with each of the available suitors in a series of several very short (sweet/funny) ficlets.

**Author's Note:**

> You made it this far, you might as well comment ;)


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